


Falter

by PragmaticKatharsis



Category: Marvel Avengers Movies Universe
Genre: Abuse, Consent Issues, Dark, Dubious Consent, M/M, Power Dynamics, Pseudo-Incest, Twisted, Violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-09-11
Updated: 2012-09-29
Packaged: 2017-11-14 01:03:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 3,844
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/509663
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PragmaticKatharsis/pseuds/PragmaticKatharsis
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Thor returns with Loki at the end of 'Avengers' Odin is so angry that he resolves to do anything it takes to fix Loki. Anything at all. Cue the slippery slope - Odin locks Loki up in a room only he himself can access. Finally, it occurs to Odin to remake Loki completely by breaking him and building him back up.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Into The Abyss, They Gazed Too Long

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the slow start! Current warnings are for what I know is coming up in the next chapter or two, but will likely add on warnings as we progress. This pretty much was written as a direct result of [A Low-Key Keepsake](490105) and another wonderful prompt from the Norsekink meme.

The grandiose hall had been emptied of all the regular court sycophants. Odin had made sure there would be no fanfare, no public display given for the return of his two sons. This affair would be between family alone.

The tension in the air was palpable as his sons marched noisily up to the foot of the dais; the sounds of Loki’s chains clanging together in a jarring tempo.

Odin, king of gods, had failed his own sons.

Loki kept his head held high, defiant and scornful. In stark contrast Thor appeared as if he were swallowing something foul as he kneeled, dragging his brother down with him in a mockery of subservience. The Tesseract in his outstretched hand presented to him in its odd cylindrical container. A small wave of Odin's hand sent the dangerous item back to the treasury.

Odin was still dreadfully tired, could still feel the strain from the chaotic events of the past months settle over him like a shroud. At first there had been anger, and what he had thought was disappointment. Soon he determined it was not disappointment, but a seething rage. Rage at himself for raising so poorly his only children. Rage at Thor for his brash actions that had led to the current state of affairs. Rage at Loki for his continued defiance.

Rage at the dark, mad creature his adopted son had become.

And here they were now, with one son who openly sneered at him, even behind the metal muzzle that held back his treacherous tongue. The other who looked at him hopefully, as if expecting to be rewarded for fixing something that he himself had broken.

He could barely contain his own fury. Odin did not want to consider which one of them had failed the other, where each of them had gone wrong. What mattered now was to fix and to mend. To ensure that such a debocle was never repeated, that both sons would come to heel.

Odin would be benevolent, he would show mercy. And it was because of that, that he knew Loki could not be entrusted to anyone else.

“Your brother shall be looked after in a manner of my own choosing until I’ve deemed him to be of sound mind and body,” Odin declared. Madness was not something to be punished, but cured. And who else could stand up to his son's tricks?

“Father, he should not be-“, Thor began.

“Do you challenge that the judgment is not mine to make?”

There was only a moment of hesitation. “No, Father.”

“Then I shall escort him to his new quarters myself,” he rumbled in a tone that told he would brook no argument from either of them, "And you, Thor, shall be restricted from leaving this realm until I say otherwise."

Thor reluctantly moved his closed fist over his heart. "I understand."

Cruel eyes were shining with malice and mockery as Odin led his youngest son away.


	2. Undesired Sentiment

It had been days since he first arrived back in Asgard and was brought before the All-Father in chains, or at least he believed it had been days. And so far, more than anything, Loki was _bored_.

It was hard to judge the passage of time without the aid of any windows. He had been put in a rather spartan room with basic necessities at his disposal. It was nothing like his former princely quarters, but it had been a surprise that they hadn’t just thrown him in a prison cell. To him it could only be a gesture of either pity or false mercy, just another way for Asgard to be oh so better than her peers.

For Loki the most remarkable thing was that the room had nothing to offer him as a decent diversion from his boredom. No books or tools for him to write with. With his magic being constantly sapped by the thick metal bands on his wrists he was even denied using the time towards practicing the arcane.

And so boredom became a near constant companion. Boredom and spite.

In his time imprisoned he'd yet to see anyone but Odin, and he'd been informed that there would be no visitors save him. In fact there would be no contact with anyone else until he was 'fixed' and once again of ‘sound mind’. There was something intensely ironic about it, that Odin thought _he_ was the one who needed to be fixed. Loki was perfectly fine, had been for ages, and was perhaps the only person around who was thinking clearly. Just because Odin refused to accept the truth, refused to tell the truth, it was not Loki’s fault. He had been a dutiful son, and had his efforts slapped back in his face for his troubles. What need did he have for the approval of the fool who cast him aside so easily?

These thoughts led to his current approach to the situation; that each time the All-Father would grace him with his presence Loki would laugh or glare or treat his visit like the jest it was. Simple conversations soon spiraled into hate filled rants and tirades from both of them, each baiting the other into exposing old wounds.

On a few memorable occasions Loki was almost sure Odin would strike out at him, it was still a wonder they hadn't come to blows. Or rather that Odin hadn’t, with his magic sealed Loki’s main weapons now were his mind and tongue (though he refused to be grateful for the removal of that damned muzzle).

Still, there was no reprieve from the senseless prattling on that would happen if Loki did not taunt the old man into a verbal sparring match. If Odin thought he could get to him with his fake compassion, he was wrong. The false comfort shown to him was sickening, if only for the fact of how lowly he was being estimated, that it was thought that he would cooperate if given a few scraps of decency. This was nothing after he'd endured the fall from the Bifrost.

Nothing after he'd endured the 'attentions' of the Chitauri.

What the All-Fool didn't seem to understand was that Loki had no intention of repenting his past actions, had no intention of apologizing or backing down from his reasoning. He had been in the right.

What was Odin, really? What was he but the great, golden thief-king of a gaudy kingdom of complacent fools? He was but the lord of pitiful subjects who would never bother looking beyond their own navels to attempt something new, to accept something different. Of course, no one else saw this. Instead it was Loki who was in the wrong - who was always in the wrong.

Absorbed in his thoughts as he was, he almost missed the heavy clank of locks turning. It would seem his boredom would get a reprieve for a time.

“Odin,” Loki spit when he entered, his contempt plainly showing as he slouched on his austere bed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> o.o Wow, you guys are awesome! I really didn't expect this turnout. As you can see, our Loki after being brought back is still filled with hate and resentment, and his bag of cats mental state is still there. And so far Odin's been trying the more 'normal' approach, which we can see isn't exactly working.
> 
> Next up on Fucked Up Literary Theater: The Chapter Where Warnings Become Relevant.


	3. Establishing Methods

How did we come to this? How did I allow such matters to slip from my careful grasp? These questions had become frequent mantras in Odin's daily thoughts.

The visits to his son had not proceeded as he had hoped, but exactly as he’d expected. Loki no longer regarded him as his father, nor really regarded him at all. Progress had not been made, and in fact things were worse than when they had started.

Thankfully there was still time to remedy mistakes made in the past, and it helped that Odin was a patient man. He wasn't sure when they started to lose the trust between them. Trust, which had been given so freely as a child, was once again needed. Trust and obedience.

Odin needed a loyal son, one whom he could count on not only to behave as a prince should, but one who would use his skills and knowledge in a productive manner, in a manner that would benefit the realm. With Loki’s potential he should have been a credit to both Odin and Asgard.

The son he had now could barely be called useful with the way he was; Loki was but a twisted parody of what he should have been, of what he could still be. Of what Odin was certain he could _make_ be.

Different tactics were required. He had been too beholden to outdated concepts of mercy and decency. He would curb Loki’s behavior and would prove the value of such harsh measures in time, even though he did not plan to tell a soul of how far he was willing to go; this was a family matter. Odin had obviously been too lenient, too absent in some way. Now was the time to break down, to shape and mold him into someone who whose loyalty would be unquestionable.

He had wanted to avoid such drastic measures, but at this point it couldn’t be helped. A firmer hand was obviously needed. Instead of backing down from this challenge Odin would just take greater care to channel his anger towards avenues that would aid him in his new goals.

Loki had always been a bright child; he just had to be made to see the wisdom behind Odin's actions.

He knew outright physical punishment would be ineffectual, and would likely only make the situation deteriorate further. Instead he would start smaller, start more innocuously. They would work up to the strict measures that would ultimately be for the best. Odin would do anything if it was for the continued good of Asgard and the well being of his son.

Three things he knew that Loki valued: his magic, his mind, and his independence.

His magic was already bound, was already well in hand. The mind was resilient and would need to be tackled last. Though his son was sealed within his room, he did still have a certain amount of independence left to bargain with. It was a start.

When he unlocked the door to his son’s room it was with unyielding resolve to carry out his new tactics, regardless of how distasteful they may seem.

“Odin.” That was how he was greeted, how he had been greeted for the past weeks.

It was an annoying sign of his child being too distant, too willful. “My son.”

“Never _yours_ ,” was the hateful reply. Loki was smirking, seemingly readying himself for another fruitless verbal sparring match.

Odin knew he should have attempted this sooner, should have reigned in this foul distemper of Loki’s. They would start slow - break the bad habits that had been learned and replace them with acceptable ones.

He closed the door behind him and walked over, giving Loki little time to react as he gave a harsh slap against his pale cheek, hopefully hard enough to get his point across as red bloomed against white. Odin’s mercy was not without end, and he was tired of playing this never ending game of rivals with someone who should be showing him reverence. That was why they were here, to correct it.

“I am your father. You will address me as such.”

Loki reached up to touch his cheek, seeming to waver between confusion and wariness at this new development before his quick tongue raced ahead of any caution. “You are no father of mine, Odin. You have never been.”

Odin sighed heavily. “I had hoped you would choose to behave differently. The things I say and do may seem cruel, but I would not do them if I did not feel they were very much needed.”

His son was slowly inching away from him, still glaring and wary of another strike.

“It would seem you have many lessons, as well as many privileges to earn.”

It was with a small motion of his hand that the metal gag reappeared, automatically springing to wrap around Loki’s head securely as it choked off the beginning sounds of protest. “Talking is a privilege.”

Another motion sent a thick cord of green silk to wrap around and over his son’s eyes, denying them sight. “Seeing is a privilege.”

At this Loki’s breathing began to hitch as he brought up his hands to tear at the blindfold. Odin noted the first hints of panic, a sign that something was finally driving the point home.

The last was already partially done. Odin reached out to catch Loki’s scrambling hands, bringing them together as he whispered the words that summoned a chain to bind around the metal at the wrists already there, turning metal bands that sealed magic into proper manacles. “Moving freely is a privilege.”

The foot of space the chain allowed would limit some actions, but would not stop him from being able to move around the room, even in this Odin was still generous.

“I do this to help you, and to help you understand your place.” Odin gave a tender caress to the exposed part of Loki’s cheek, trying to convey his sentiments that this really was in his best interests. For his thoughtful efforts Loki jerked away as if scalded, as if his very touch gave offense.

That was the first time Odin hit Loki hard enough to bruise.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ~~Maybe one day PK will not be as overly verbose about the breaking down of intentions and psyches.~~  
>  And so we have climbed this whole exposition mountain and are now sliding down the slippery slope of fucked up relationships. I hope the ride is enjoyable.


	4. Learning Curve

The days after his first loss of privileges were among the worst he’d experienced.

Being unable to see, unable to talk – it was like Loki was falling again. He had to mentally will himself to breathe slower, to calm himself when he started to feel like he was once again thrust into the middle of space. At least he could still hear, at least that one thing was still left to him; still he couldn’t keep from cursing himself for finding comfort in this small thing.

For several days he’d been chained spread-eagle to the small bed frame, a punishment after having injured himself in his attempts to get the blindfold off (he had not been given _permission_ to harm himself). Loki had clawed frantically at the material and the flesh around it until he could feel his face dripping with blood, until it had caked under his nails and the only thing he could smell was its metallic scent. Odin had been furious, and as further punishment his clothes had been torn from him afterward; he no longer had the privilege to wear them.

The room was enchanted as such that he didn't need for food or water – they too had become privileges.

_“You will kneel like this when I release you,” Odin had explained as he pressed Loki down until his uncovered knees pressed against the cold, stone floor, “you will hold this position until I order you up. Do you understand?”_

_Loki had shaken his head stubbornly, was already fighting against the firm hand on his neck holding him down._

A set of rules and consequences were quickly established and enforced. Five smacks for disobeying a command, three for each show of fighting back. If Odin was feeling particularly vengeful he’d use a thin, springy switch instead of his hand. When Loki (bruised and bleeding by that point) could no longer take the pain and obeyed he was rewarded with a few soft touches followed by murmured words of encouragement. Whenever he shied away from the calloused fingers and false words he’d receive even more punishment; for being ‘ungrateful’.

_“If you would only behave I wouldn’t have to do this.”_

What had been constant boredom was now a sick, horrified curiosity about what next indignity he'd be subjected to and what it would be. He was convinced Odin had gone insane; there was no other explanation that made sense to Loki's mind. The attempts to calm him down when he felt like he could no longer breathe, running his hand through his matted hair and making soothing sounds – Odin’s actions were constantly contradicting each other.

Odin also told such beautiful lies that promised comfort (if he would just be a _good boy_ ), but in the end they were still lies. When was the last time All-Father spoke truth to him? When had his promises ever been real? The reality was that they were lies and he was held prisoner in an isolated room with an insane, sadistic jailor and _he could not see_.

_“You are the catalyst of your own suffering, my son. I would have stopped by now if you had only accepted your punishment without fuss.”_ _Another sharp crack sounded through the room._

Everything had come crashing down and he was still sifting through the wreckage of his own life, of his own failures.  In a way it was good there were no visitors allowed, he must look a sight. Bruised, battered, and trussed up, reeking of sweat (fear).

Pain constantly ate at him; it poisoned his thoughts and chipped at his resolve. He could feel as it coursed through his veins, made his thoughts hazy and hard to catch. The beatings and the lack of sleep that followed left him more exhausted each day.

Normally, he would be okay if it was just that, he was used to hurt and pain. It was the comfort given afterward that was so unnerving. Loki wanted to curse, to scream his frustrations at his helplessness, at his inability to save himself. It was getting to the point that he almost missed Thor's company, at least he would've been more susceptible to his schemes; the self righteous godling wouldn't have locked him in a room and taken away so much at the very least.

Loki hated it the most when he wanted to give in, when he wanted to lean into the brief touches, when he wanted to believe the pretty words telling him that the pain would stop if he was good. He detested his body’s traitorous responses. In the end he always yielded anyway, had been close to fainting more times than he wanted to remember. The triumph of body over mind sickened him; it didn’t help that the endless cycle of disobedience and punishment took its toll on both. Was he being foolish in resisting so openly?

_Loki quickly learned that the gag was a mixed blessing in that it also kept him from screaming (begging) during his frequent punishments._

Maybe he would obey for now, wait and bide his time until his jailor thought himself successful. He was a trickster, a formidable adversary in his own right; he would (could?) endure. In the end was pride worth pain? Every time he would shore himself up only to be knocked down by the horrid sensations he was subjected to, the aches that consumed everything. Would it be so much to stop the pain for only a little while, just until he could find a way out?

Loki shivered in the quiet room, writhing on the bed against the chains and wondered if he had ever felt so cold (vulnerable) before.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next up: More hands-on 'parenting'.


	5. Faux Hope

It is still quite a while before Loki can bring himself to submit to Odin’s commands with anything resembling compliance. Even that small bending of pride was only after several brutally painful reminders ( _lessons_ ) of his current position; all of which were brought about because he had tried to make his escape from this mockery of justice.

Admittedly it had been a move born of desperation and stupidity, doomed to fail from its inception if only for lack of proper planning. Realizing that he was set up to fail the worthless attempt from the beginning didn’t much help him after having had his hopes cruelly raised and then dashed.

_Odin had been attempting to get Loki to heed his commands again today, making him stand up, sit down, and hold different positions for what seemed like the sadistic joy it brought the sick bastard. With Loki still resisting against each demeaning command given, not to mention how hard it was to follow some orders without being able to see, he could feel that he was already covered in an almost entirely new layer of blood and sweat. He took small consolation that Odin’s hand also had to be coated in the same by now._

_“Stay.” Odin’s voice seemed to float to him from the other side of the room._

_Loki was currently standing at the edge of his bed, his head lowered and held there as he had been instructed to each day when Odin was getting ready to end their ‘session’._

_As he heard the heavy steps head towards where (he thought) the door was, Loki felt confusion for a moment – usually he was not allowed to remain in the room without being restrained somehow to the bed. The deviation from the established routine was more than odd, and that was not the only thing; it had been hard to judge where everything was exactly in the room, but Loki was almost sure he had heard Odin’s footsteps fade. Even more promising was that he’d heard the door open, but not close._

_He should have known then that it was too good to be anything but a trap._

_Loki had hurriedly hobbled (naked, chained, battered) over to where he believed the door was, shackled hands outstretched in an effort to grasp around for the doorframe. ‘Almost there, almost there!’ Loki mentally chanted to himself. He hadn’t felt so alive since before he’d been dragged back to Asgard._

_He could feel the frame! Soon this room and its tortures would be far behind him. He would find his way out and then find a way around the blindfold and gag by–_

_“This won’t do.” Odin’s calm voice was at odds with the vicious way he delivered a blow with his hand hard enough that Loki could feel something in his left arm crack; it flung him back into the room by a mix of physical and magical force._

_He trembled in dread as the familiar footsteps started to close the distance between them. “I told you to stay. Get back into position.”_

_Loki had curled around himself on the ground as he clutched uselessly at his hurt arm. Small noises of distress escaped the gag as he gasped for air through the pain. When he made no move to follow Odin’s orders he was kicked in the back, sending him skidding closer to the bed._

_“I see you still do not appreciate what I’m doing for you. Now, stand up.” The jagged steel was back in Odin’s tone._

_Slowly Loki lifted his body from the comforting (safe) floor. As he stood he lowered his head and attempted to subtly reposition the injured arm so that the manacle did not drag on it as much and damage it further._

_“Very good, Loki, but I am still disappointed in your appalling lack of appreciation for the things I’ve allowed you. You were always so quick to learn, I’m sure you’ll understand soon. I have the utmost faith in you.”_

_Loki felt a chaste kiss press against his forehead as his injured arm was painfully twisted away from his side, making his world explode in misery and hurt._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next time on Super Magical Horrid Kink Writing: Dubious consent.   
> And by Dubious consent I mean bath time. Which to me is apparently the same thing.


End file.
